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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749986">(Should Have Kissed You Every) Morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria'>euhemeria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [84]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:08:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They have had more pleasant kisses than this one, ones without morning breath, or the awkward bumping of noses and teeth as Fareeha tries to get the angle right at the exact moment Angela leans up to meet her, but even like this, in need of a shower and a hairbrush, Fareeha is irresistible, is beautiful, is breathtaking.</p><p>Or,</p><p>Some lazy morning sex.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [84]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/508281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(Should Have Kissed You Every) Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigsleepy/gifts">bigsleepy</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>just a little itty bitty thing bc im working on a lot of non-pm ovw stuff rn and i want yall to know i havent forgotten abt my faves</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most mornings, Angela wakes alone.  She does not mind that—prefers it, actually, likes to lie in bed for a few minutes and allow herself to adjust to consciousness slowly, no other person demanding her attention or expecting her to move faster—and it is practical, besides, allowing her to stagger her morning routine against Fareeha’s.  Even if she did not like waking alone, she thinks she would still do it, because she much prefers lying in bed for an extra half hour to the idea of joining Fareeha on her morning run.</p><p>Sometimes, however, it is nice to wake and find that she is still as she was when she fell asleep, head on her partner’s chest, an arm and leg thrown over Fareeha as if she could protect her, in that way, shield her from all the evil in the world with a gesture so simple. </p><p>This morning is one of those rare mornings in which Fareeha is not gone before Angela wakes, when she has forgone her usual routine, for whatever reason, and the first thing Angela is aware of, as she eases into consciousness, is the gentle rise and fall of Fareeha’s breath beneath her head, the warmth of her skin, the faint smell of her lotion.  Not one to question good fortune, Angela takes a long moment to enjoy the feeling before she opens her eyes at last.</p><p>“Morning,” says she, voice still deep after sleep.</p><p>“Good morning to you, too,” Fareeha shifts up onto one elbow, presumably to see her better, and disturbs Angela from her resting place in the process.</p><p>Rather than sitting up, Angela rolls onto her back next to Fareeha, glances up as her partner’s face comes into view above her own, smiling down at her.  Not a morning person, Angela nonetheless musters a smile in response.</p><p>“Sorry if I woke you,” Fareeha tells her.</p><p>“I don’t think you did,” Angela is not certain of that, of course, but most mornings Fareeha slips out from underneath her in order to go running and Angela is at best vaguely aware of it—and nothing like that happened this morning.</p><p>“That’s good,” Fareeha says, “I didn’t want to disturb you—it seemed like you were enjoying your dream.”</p><p>“What?” Angela asks, only to remember, suddenly, a flash of what her dream was about.  <em>Enjoying </em>is certainly a deliberate word choice, and she blushes, deeply.  “<em>Ah</em>.”</p><p>By now, Fareeha has rolled fully onto her side, head propped up on one hand, and the other comes down to trace idle patterns on Angela’s torso—not teasing, quite, but making it quite clear that she would like this conversation to head in that direction, if Angela is amenable.  “Tell me about it?” asks she, and although her tone is innocent enough, her intent is clearly not.</p><p>Angela hates to disappoint, but, “I don’t remember much.”</p><p>(For the most part, Angela only ever remembers the worst of her dreams, the ones where she wakes shaking and screaming and certain she is somewhere, sometime else.  But those are most often memories, and so perhaps they are more easily remembered than her good dreams, which, despite the fact that her life is more good than bad, these days, are always fabrications.)</p><p>“Nothing?”  Fareeha’s dreams must be more vivid than Angela’s own, because she almost always is able to remember at least some small part of them.</p><p>All Angela remembers, however, is this, a single moment, a single image, suspended in time because it exists without a before or an after.  “I think we were on a beach,” says she, “Because I could hear the waves.  I couldn’t feel the sand, though—”</p><p>“Fortunately,” Fareeha interjects, her tone conveying that she has some less than enjoyable experience with the matter.</p><p>“Yes,” Angela cannot help that her smile creeps into her voice, there, “Fortunately.  But I wasn’t thinking about that.”</p><p>“What were you thinking about?”</p><p>Remembering a dream is not like a memory, it cannot be unlocked by simply asking the right questions.  Fortunately, however, this much Angela had recalled before Fareeha interjected: “You were on top of me,” says she, and then, the part she remembers most distinctly, “Your thigh was between my legs, and I was breathing in the air you breathed out.  I was thinking that, if I tried hard enough, we could just melt into each other, then and there.”</p><p>And that is all she remembers, the only moment of the dream that lingers in her mind—that instant of connection, of oneness, the belief, then, absolute, that the two of them could literally become one being.  It is impossible, of course, but in a dream…</p><p>“Well,” Fareeha says, voice catching on the first word in a way that betrays that something about the nature of this dream moved her, despite it being the result of nothing more than chance, as Angela’s sleeping brain worked to process and encode the events of the day,  “I think,” her voice regains its usual even keel here, although her tone is decidedly sensual, “We can at least try it out, and see what happens.”</p><p>“I am not,” Angela says, still not thinking clearly before her morning coffee, “Going to have sex on some beach with you.”</p><p>At that, Fareeha laughs, unrestrained, and her body is pressed closely enough to Angela that she can feel it, the way her lover's whole body moves with the force of it, “I didn’t mean <em>that</em>,” says she.  “I’m not keen to clean sand out of anywhere sensitive.” </p><p>Angela laughs at that, too, because this all but confirms her earlier suspicion that Fareeha was speaking from experience when she said that the lack of sand in Angela’s dream was a lucky thing. </p><p>“What I meant,” Fareeha continues, after a moment, walking her fingers up Angela’s abdomen and towards her breasts, “Is that we could try and replicate the rest of the dream.  Me on top of you, you grinding into my thigh, the two of us melting into one another.”</p><p>“Ah,” Angela says, because of course that is what Fareeha meant, “In that case—I’d like that, yes.”  She would, in fact, more than <em>like </em>it, but putting such things to words is always a bit awkward, unless she is too caught up in the heat of the moment to care about what she says anymore.</p><p>(During sex itself, Angela is, in fact, very clear about what it is she wants, and how, because by that point, there remains nothing to be embarrassed about, and because, also, she is too focused on what it is she is feeling physically to be aware of any lingering shame she has about voicing her desires.  Outside of sex, that shame is harder to unlearn.)</p><p>“I was hoping you would say that,” Fareeha says, sounding very pleased indeed, before leaning down to kiss Angela.</p><p>They have had more pleasant kisses than this one, ones without morning breath, or the awkward bumping of noses and teeth as Fareeha tries to get the angle right at the exact moment Angela leans up to meet her, but even like this, in need of a shower and a hairbrush, Fareeha is irresistible, is beautiful, is breathtaking.</p><p>And, soon enough, Angela forgets about the morning breath, forgets about the fact that she herself still smells like sweat from their too warm comforter, forgets about the fact that she likely has remnants of yesterday’s mascara smeared beneath her eyes, and lets herself be swept up in this.  With Fareeha, she can always manage to forget herself.  The conditions are not as perfect as her dream—or what little of it she can remember—but they do not need to be.  What matters is that she is here with Fareeha, who always makes her feel desired, and desirable, and to whom she is always attracted.</p><p>(Long gone are the days when Angela worried that Fareeha could not possibly find her as attractive as she claims to, would see all they ways in which Angela’s body is less perfect than her own and judge her for it.  By now, Angela knows Fareeha has insecurities about her own body, too, and is not concerned over whether or not Angela is as toned as she is, does not mind that Angela has the beginnings of wrinkles by her eyes, and a few greys in her hair.  Fareeha loves <em>Angela, </em>not some perfect idealized version of her, and morning sex, when Angela is decidedly not looking her best, is not going to change that fact.)</p><p>Briefly, Fareeha breaks the kiss to move over Angela, and she has to resist the urge to arch her neck to follow Fareeha’s motion.  Just a moment apart is not a terrible thing, and it is not long at all before Fareeha is kissing her again, hovering above her this time, close enough that the heat of her body can be felt across Angela’s own, and she is close, so very close, but not quite close enough.</p><p>One of Angela’s hands moves up to Fareeha’s back, feels the strength of the muscles there, taut beneath her skin, given the position she is in, planking above Angela, and the other, at Fareeha’s lower back, pushes downwards.  It is not a strong enough push to force Fareeha to move, but it is a strong suggestion, nonetheless.  Despite the difference in their heights, she and Fareeha are nearly the same weight, so it is hardly a problem if Fareeha lies atop her—is preferable, in fact, on most days.  Sometimes, the heat of Fareeha’s body is too much, but the temperature grew cooler overnight, and now the warmth of her lover’s skin against her own is just right.</p><p>A hum from Fareeha in acknowledgement, before she breaks the kiss and moves up and back, instead.  “Sheets,” she says, by way of explanation, pulling the blanket at Angela’s waist down as far as she can without moving yet again, and leaving the rest for Angela to kick down.</p><p>“Right,” Angela says, freeing herself from the rest of the blanket.  Normally, they have sex before going to bed, and she does not have to worry about this sort of thing.  “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“I didn’t think of it either,” Fareeha says, and that is true, Angela supposes—if she had thought of it before, she would have had Angela remove the blanket before climbing onto her.</p><p>In response, Angela only hums, looking at Fareeha who is, again, kneeling above her, before another thing she forgot occurs to her, “You might,” says she, “Want to take off your pyjamas, too.”</p><p>(Unlike Fareeha, Angela mostly sleeps in the nude, and so does not have to remove anything at all.)</p><p>“I could,” Fareeha says, “But I thought you might like it if I left them on.”</p><p>Certainly, Angela is not one to complain about that sort of thing, because yes, clothed sex does have a certain appeal to her, but in this case…</p><p>“I’d rather feel your skin,” or, more of it than she could feel already, with Fareeha’s flimsy camisole having ruched up, and her sleep shorts already quite short.</p><p>“I guess I can’t say no to an invitation like that,” Fareeha says, and her voice sounds cool and confident, but she is blushing, Angela can tell, in a way that says she very much liked, for whatever reason, the way Angela phrased that.</p><p>So there is a pause for a moment, while Fareeha wriggles out of her pyjamas and tosses them towards their laundry hamper—successfully—and Angela, propped up on her elbows enjoys the view.</p><p>“Lovely,” says she, because Fareeha is, and because she knows that Fareeha likes it, when she says things like that, likes to be told that she is beautiful.</p><p>(She likes, too, to be told that she is handsome, and so Angela uses that language, too, at times.  Right now, however, <em>lovely </em>fits.)</p><p>“You don’t look half bad yourself,” says Fareeha, and Angela is going to say something, in response, about how she certainly <em>does </em>right now, hair a mess and not at all cleaned up after sleep, but she does not get the chance, because Fareeha kisses her, again, before she can voice that objection.</p><p>It does not matter how either of them looks, anyway, not here, where no one else can see them.</p><p>(Other times, it does matter, Angela knows; she is not foolish enough to think that one’s lived experience can be separated from the body one is born into, what others think when they see it.  But here—here it does not matter, because Angela loves the Fareeha with unbrushed hair and a bit of dried drool by the corner of her mouth just as much as she loves Fareeha with a face full of make-up.)</p><p>So Angela forgets about that, focuses on other, better things, like Fareeha’s lovely round ass beneath her hands, the gentle suction of Fareeha’s lips pulling on her own, and the softness of Fareeha’s hair as it falls on her face.  That is, surely, more important. </p><p>With Fareeha, it is easy enough to focus only on the pleasant side of things, is easy to let herself be drawn into Fareeha’s reality, where Angela is a better, kinder, stronger person than she feels she truly is.  With Fareeha, it is easy to believe that she is worth loving, in a way she never felt before.</p><p>She hopes that Fareeha, too, feels the same, tries to convey that emotion with the only tools available to her at the moment, her mouth and her hands.  She kisses Fareeha deeper, and moves one hand to be back of her head, careful not to pull at her hair, and uses the other at Fareeha’s waist to pull her in tighter, tighter against Angela.  She never, ever wants to let Fareeha go.</p><p>They have been there for one another in times far less pleasant than this, far less peaceful, and so she does not want any part of this moment to slip away from her, because as important as it is that they support one another at other times, it is equally as important that they are able to enjoy moments like this, able to love one another when things go well.</p><p>And she does love Fareeha, dearly.  They break for air for just a moment and she cannot resist saying it, tells Fareeha “I love you,” not for any reason in particular other than that it is true.</p><p>Although she does not have to, Fareeha replies in kind.  Angela knows, of course, that Fareeha feels that way, has known since Fareeha ever told her, but it is still nice to hear, nice to know, makes her feel a different sort of warmth than the arousal that has been building, steadily, throughout all this.</p><p>Now that she thinks about that feeling, though, it is harder than ever to ignore.  When Fareeha resumes kissing her, Angela moves so that Fareeha’s leg is properly between her thighs, and she can press up against it, can enjoy that contact.  She knows already that she cannot quite get her legs into a position that will satisfy Fareeha too—something in the shape of their hips, or their thighs, makes it thoroughly impossible to find the right <em>fit </em>for that—but she plans on making it up to Fareeha, after this, and knows that if it bothered Fareeha that she would say something.</p><p>(In recent months, they have grown better at that, telling one another what it is good for them, what is not, and finding compromises.  They are not, perhaps, naturally as well-suited to one another as some other couples are, but they more than make up for that by communicating as best they can about what they need.)</p><p>Fareeha is, it seems, more than amenable, because she presses her thigh further into the junction of Angela’s thighs, needs no urging to do so.</p><p>Usually, it takes Angela longer than this to be done with foreplay—long enough that, sometimes, it is frustrating, particularly when Fareeha tends to become aroused far more quickly than she—but for whatever reason, be it the lingering remnants of her dream, or simply chance, today, she does not need much in the way of foreplay, and does not particularly want it, either, wants all of Fareeha, all at once, rather than letting Fareeha tease her, first.</p><p>Again, Fareeha does not seem to object—either because she does not think that Angela is going to get off without either one of them moving a hand down to play with her clit, or because this means that she will get her turn sooner—and she moves in time with Angela, as best she can, given the limited leverage her position provides.  This is, certainly, not the ideal way to be doing this, but caught up in the feeling of Fareeha’s mouth on her own, and the fact that Fareeha removed one of Angela’s own hands from her body in order to hold it, Angela does not much mind.  Her heart is still beating quickly, and she cannot distinguish, anymore, the heat of Fareeha on top of her from the heat her own body is generating.  Right now, technique matters far less than the fact that she is holding Fareeha so tightly to herself that their sweat sticks their skin together.</p><p>They are not one, never will be, outside of her dream, but like this—like this she can forget, for a moment, that they need to be separate people, can imagine that their love is enough for them to fall into one another.</p><p>(In reality, Angela does not really want <em>oneness</em>, does not want her relationship to spell an end to her individual personhood, to subsume her identity, but to be consumed by Fareeha’s love is something else entirely.  Because it is not possible for them to truly ever be one person, to have one experience, one goal, one emotion, it is a safe fantasy, free from the consequences of such a reality.)</p><p>So she focuses on the feeling, arches her back into Fareeha and tightens her thighs around Fareeha’s own, although she knows that Fareeha will stay right where she is needed.  This is neither as coordinated nor as energetic as their normal sex, but she is half awake after all, and content to move steadily towards the end of things, rather than going out of her way to finish.</p><p>Steadily, steadily, her arousal grows, builds on itself, Fareeha rocking against her like the crashing of waves upon the shore, and it becomes inevitable that, given a little more time, she <em>will </em>come.  Still, there is no urgency to her movements.  Like this, Fareeha kissing her, Fareeha holding her, Fareeha against her and around her and on her, she is content to stay.</p><p>Even as she grows closer, she does not bear down, does not clench her muscles or try to will the orgasm to come.  It will, eventually, but she is not in any real rush—she just wants to enjoy this moment with Fareeha, wants to enjoy the closeness, more than anything.</p><p>When her orgasm does wash over her, it is not the same burst of sensation to which she is accustomed, but rather it moves through her slowly, and the sensation is deeper, more satisfying.  Fareeha holds her, through it, and she squeezes Fareeha’s hand tighter, as if it were the only thing anchoring her to the present.</p><p>After it has ended, Fareeha moves again to lie beside her—used, by now, to the fact that sometimes, Angela does not like to be touched after sex, and prefers to control herself the level of contact—but Angela moves to curl into Fareeha, wanting for now to be held.</p><p>“I think,” says she, after another minute or two to catch her breath and return to the present, “You should ask me about my dreams more often.  This is a much better way of waking up than any alarm clock.”</p><p>At that, Fareeha laughs, and both their bodies move with the laughter.  “I didn’t actually know <em>what </em>you were dreaming about when I asked,” she admits.  “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate the outcome.”</p><p>“You didn’t?” Angela was certain, from Fareeha’s response to her, that she must have known.</p><p>“Nope, but your blush gave it away immediately.”</p><p>Of course it did.  Angela can hardly complain, however, because she enjoyed the outcome, although she does wonder, “So when you said I was enjoying my dream…?”</p><p>One of Fareeha’s arms finds its way around her waist, pulls her in closer.  “You seemed so peaceful, sleeping on me.  I thought it’d be worth missing my run, for once, to let you sleep.”</p><p>“Is that all?”  Surely, Angela is peacefully asleep when Fareeha leaves for her run most mornings.</p><p>“That’s all,” Fareeha tells her.  “We’re lucky to get moments like this, you know?  I didn’t want to waste this one.”</p><p>Somewhat ungracefully, Angela rolls over to face Fareeha without leaving her grip, then puts one of her hands on Fareeha’s cheek.  “I don’t ever want to take you for granted,” she tells Fareeha.  “I’m glad you stayed.”</p><p>This is not the oneness she dreamed of, but it is something better, is the ability to choose, consciously, to be together, each and every day, to be able to part, and pursue their own goals, only to reunite, that much happier to have time with each other.</p><p>Most mornings, Angela wakes alone, but she is happy to know that Fareeha is there for her, nonetheless.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>gay ppl let me hear u make some noise</p><p>but fr sometimes lazy slow morning sex is... just what the doctor ordered.  but only sometimes bc other times im like I GOTTA BRUSH MY TEETH AND SHOWER IM GROSS</p><p>still at it w the 1d titles btw... tho i think after fic 100 ill transition to another band for a bit</p><p>anyway.  hope u enjoyed, lmk ur thoughts, feel free to holler @ me on twitter, etc</p></blockquote></div></div>
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